Apodyopsis
by quillsand
Summary: Hermione is a rational girl, and in her experience she knows that the best way to deal with a distraction is to remove it completely. Unfortunately, her feelings for Ron Weasley are something she doesn't think she can simply ignore any longer. Especially when she walks in on him getting changed one morning.


_A/N: This was written for the following prompts by diva-gonzo on tumblr _

_Apodyopsis: The act of mentally undressing someone_

_Basorexia: An overwhelming desire to k__iss_

_Disclaimer: Nah, still own nothing._

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The impatient young witch at the bottom of the staircases checked her watched for the umpteenth time in two minutes and sighed. Hermione had been waiting for Ron and Harry for at least twenty minutes before one of them finally decided to show their face.

Stretching and yawning, Harry Potter made his way into the Gryffindor common room with a melodramatic and exaggerated fatigue that was common for Saturday mornings at Hogwarts. He paused briefly when he caught sight of her contained anger and slowed his pace considerably.

Hermione advanced on her pray. "And just where do you think you've been? And where's Ron?" She demanded, standing on tiptoe and looking over Harry's head to try and catch sight of the lanky ginger.

Harry stared back at her blankly. "It's Saturday." Was all he said.

Hermione made a frustrated growl in the back of her throat and ran a hand through her bushy hair. "Yes Harry," She said threateningly, trying to keep her voice below a shout, "I'm aware it's a Saturday, what I fail to see is how you seem to have forgotten-" But she stopped abruptly at Harry's continued befuddlement as a thought occurred to her. "He didn't tell you, did he?"

Harry was beyond confused at this point, and as such made no move to correct or confirm Hermione's question. The quietness her voice had taken on scared him; even though he knew Ron was the one who should be scared if Hermione was directing that anger at him. Growing impatient yet again, Hermione marched past Harry with thunder in her eyes and continued until she reached the 5th year's room.

In her anger, Hermione forgot the common courtesy of knocking before entering one's room, and as a result, she found herself confronting a half-naked Ron Weasley.

She froze but found herself unable to look away. Ron stared back at her like a deer caught in headlights, turning a vivid shade of red from the neck upwards. Hermione honestly didn't know how long they stood there like that, although she did know that it felt like forever.

Hermione loved logic, and in that moment her brain was telling her the most logical thing to do in her current situation was to break the silence. So she did, fuelled by her earlier anger, the first thing that popped into her head was also the first thing out of her mouth. "You didn't tell Harry!" She practically screeched at a startled Ron, who was hastily hiking his jeans the rest of the way up his long legs.

"What are you on about?" Came the equally fierce reply as it came apparent to Hermione that her brain had come up with the wrong solution.

Despite her better instincts, she persevered, "You never told Harry about the study session we arranged! O.W.L's are in two weeks, Ron! Two weeks!" She stomped her foot on the ground, partly for emphasis, partly to try and distract Ron from the wild blush on her cheeks. He was just a friend. No matter how much she wanted to change that, she would never risk jeopardizing their hard earned friendship. She shouldn't be feeling this flustered in front of him. So, logically, she should just shake it off and walk away. Logically.

Unfortunately, Hermione seemed to be anything but logical today, and her feet traitorously kept her rooted to the spot. Unable to divert her eyes from the noticeable but modest muscles working in his arms as he pulled on a shirt, she missed his reply. "Pardon?" She asked quizzically.

"I _said_\- I'm sorry I forgot about the studying. We can go to the library now and still get a decent two hours before me and Harry have practice if you want? I know you wanted three but I'll make up for it tomorrow yeah?" Ron flushed even deeper as they both registered his last sentence. Hermione knew he had meant it innocently, of course, but that morning her mind seemed to be working in unfamiliar directions. Not to mention the fact that she couldn't stop staring at his lips.

"I didn't mean… That is, I-"

"We'd better get going. I told Harry to wait downstairs." _Nice one Hermione_, she thought to herself, _really smooth. _If anything, Ron seemed to be grateful for her impromptu interruption, and after a brief pause Hermione turned and started walking back down to the common room. A moment later she heard Ron's heavy footsteps follow her.

Harry eyed the two of them warily as they reached the bottom of the stairs and Hermione realised it must have been quite suspicious, the two of them being alone for so long. Before she could act on her impulse to assure him that nothing had happened, he spoke. "So, you didn't kill him then?" Despite the directness with which he said it, Hermione got the feeling it was aimed more at Ron than her.

"Nah mate, she decided to go easy on me." Ron replied while shooting her a lopsided grin that made her stomach churn. Harry snorted and muttered something along the lines of 'that's a first'. Hermione wished them to stop referring to her in third person, but as it was, she decided to let the issue slide (they'd already lost about 30 minutes revision time thanks to _someone_). Holding her head up high and unwilling to fall for their diversionary tactics, Hermione marched to the library with the two boys hot on her heels.

* * *

Thirty minutes into their revision session and Hermione was losing all faith in everything she thought she knew about herself. She kept getting distracted. Everytime she thought she was getting somewhere with her Arithmancy, the image of Ron stood half naked in his bedroom would worm its way into her mind (something not made easier by him sitting across from her, only a few feet away).

Yes, Hermione concluded, it was all his fault. If he hadn't forgot to tell Harry, they wouldn't have been late, she never would've gone to shout at him, and she certainly wouldn't be thinking all these confusing thoughts about one of her best friends.

Although, that wasn't technically true. Hermione had known for a while now that she felt more than friendship for Ron Weasley, but she had tried to keep those emotions from surfacing. Something that was practically impossible now.

Her eyes wandered over to his figure sat opposite her. Slouched in his seat and twirling his quill between his fingers almost hypnotically, Hermione was transfixed. Her mind went into overdrive as it conjured up elaborate imaginings in which he would dramatically rip his shirt off, confess deeply hidden emotions and mountains of all-encompassing attraction to her. She found herself desperately trying to recall the way he had looked underneath his shirt- all pale skin starred with a myriad of freckles, slim, and whilst he wasn't muscly exactly, his torso was toned in a way that suggested he played a lot of quidditch.

She knew that Ron wasn't particularly fond of his pale complexion, but she loved it. It provided such a contrast to her own dark skin, and his freckles were scattered everywhere, reminding her of the brief phase she had with astrology and star constellations when she was a child. Ginny often referred to her freckles as 'skin stars' and Hermione found the description especially fitting for Ron. She briefly wondered how many there were and was overcome with a strange desire to count them, when she was distracted by a rather deliberate cough, and looked up to see the subject of her fantasies staring straight at her with a bemused expression plastered on his face.

Hermione felt her cheeks flame and the first irrational thought was that he somehow knew where her mind had been mere seconds before. Giving his questioning look her best dismissive smile and muttering something about making sure he was staying on track, she hastily returned to her work. Ron appeared slightly dejected at her apparent lack of faith in his work ethic, but it was a small price to pay for keeping her actual reasons hidden.

Their study session continued at what Hermione felt was a remarkably slow pace. Once again, every time she was even close to regaining her focus she seemed to lose it. One glance at Ron was all it took to take her mind well and truly away from the task at hand. And she couldn't seem to stop glancing at Ron. Even though she was much more careful not to be caught staring, she hated how easily she was getting diverted. She wanted to blame it all on Ron, but realistically it wasn't his fault so much as hers. She was supposed to be the ever smart and logical Hermione Granger, for goodness sake! She wasn't supposed to let things such as boys (especially not Ron) distract her from her learning.

Hermione was a rational girl, and in her experience she knew that the best way to deal with a distraction was to remove it completely. So she'd just have to find a way to get Ron out of the library so she could concentrate. Or, better yet, extricate herself from the situation so she could go back to her dorm in peace.

A loud yawn from Ron stopped her from fully developing the plan. She looked up to send a particularly icy glare his way, but instead caught him in the middle of a cat-like stretch, shirt riding up and exposing a small expanse of skin on his right hip. Hermione's mouth suddenly felt dry, and her uncooperative mind was at it again, imagining the hemline of his jeans falling lower and-

"Hermione?" Once again, it was Ron who bought her back down to earth, and once again she blushed violently, paranoid. She loved the sound of her name on his lips, he said it like it was such a fragile, beautiful thing. In fact, she loved his lips in general. Especially how he'd bite his bottom one when worried, and the way his tongue would stick out from between them when he was concentrating. She longed to touch her own lips to his, and she could- if he were a bit closer...

"Are you okay?" This time it was Harry, leaning close to her and peering over her shoulder at the papers and books that still lay open on the table. "Hermione, you've barely wrote anything, what's-"

But Hermione didn't give him time to finish. Slamming her books shut and snatching the papers from the table, she caught Harry and Ron exchange befuddled looks and her frustration increased. "I just realised I might've gotten a statistic wrong in our last Charms essay, I've got to go and find Professor Flitwick about it. I'll see you at dinner after practice." She said all of this very fast, hoping neither Harry nor Ron were observant enough to realise she hadn't even been reading her Charms textbook, but her Arithmancy one.

As she trudged back to the Gryffindor commonroom, she realised she'd been avoiding the truth for a long time, and she had a feeling that it wasn't going to be possible any longer. She liked Ron as more than a friend, but also more than a crush. Hermione Granger spent the rest of the day in her room, alone, trying to come to terms with the fact that she may be falling in love with Ron Weasley.

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_A/N(2): Thanks for reading! Leave a review telling me whether you liked it or not maybe? And if you think I should publish my other one word 'drabbles' from tumblr?_


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